


Shooting Star and the Stray

by FrostyFallon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon-Typical Violence, Human Experimentation, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, fluff humor drama and angst folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostyFallon/pseuds/FrostyFallon
Summary: Deadlock is the local superhero Drift by night and filthy rich yoga instructor by day. Hot Rod is a barista at a local coffee shop but also the new up and coming “villain” in Iacon: Meteorite. Unsurprisingly, this doesn't stop them from falling for one another.





	1. The Barista

**Author's Note:**

> So! The human/coffeeshop/superhero au no one asked for but I fell in love with anyway. PLEASE read the warnings for the chapters, this started as a fluffy work but has some fairly dark moments in later chapters. I'll try to tag everything and please let me know if I miss anything. However chapter 1 is mostly fluffy and humorous so please enjoy!

In hindsight, working at a coffee shop might not of been the best choice. The pay was mostly tips which barely covered rent for Hot Rod’s shitty one bedroom apartment not to mention everything else went towards food, his phone bill, and repairing his armour. He’d broken out _months_ ago and _still_ hadn’t fully repaired and painted the armor. It’d taken some time to adjust to life which was whatever, probably for the best, but now? He’d never get anything done. Oh! And the _customers_. So many customers were the absolute rudest, impatient, horr-

Hhhhholy shit. _Holy shit!_ The small bell above the door lets out a soft chime as someone who Hot Rod assumes _has_ to be a model walks into the shop because _damn._ White hair pulled into a short ponytail, a black headband holding back loose strands from his face. He was wearing loose fitting black yoga pants with a red tank top showing of muscular arms (that Hot Rod _wasn’t_ ogling), black and white trainers, and carrying a creme colored duffle bag with brown bands and a red patch on the side.

He shouldn’t be eyeing up a customer, he knows that. But, _wow_ , whoever the guy was he was checking every single one of Hot Rod’s boxes. 

The handsome stranger looks around the shop, nothing spectacular in Hot Rod opinion, creamy brown walls, wood flooring, couple paintings scattered about, all made to look comforting or something. Before making his way towards the counter. Towards _him_. His mouth goes dry. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Don’t mess this up. Stick to the script.

“Hi welcome to Moonbean Cafe, what can I get you? Besides my number.” Ok not in the script, that _wasn't the script!_ (though he won’t complain if the stranger _does_ leave his number) 

The stranger’s ears redden at the tips but otherwise he doesn't respond. Instead he glances at the menu for a second before answering-

“A iced sugar-free vanilla latte with soy, medium.”

What- That was- Hmm. Hot Rod must've tuned out staring at the gorgeous face that was right there- oh fuck, _he's right there_ and he had _brilliant_ blue eyes. Oh, um,  right- order. Job. Gotta do that.

“Can you repeat that?” The customer does so this time Hot Rod pays enough attention to the actual order to put it into the machine.

“Name for the order?” Please let it be a good name _. Please_ let it be a good name. If the handsome stranger with the overly complicated order had something like Cáel, or- or Jessifer, or Primus forgive _Dabney_ , Hot Rod would literally die on the spot. It had happened before, too. Cute guy came into the shop and had a name so bad Hot Rod had spent the rest of the day out of it. _Truck!_ That had been the guy’s name. Hot Rod still cried a bit about that one, the guy was _hot_.

“Deadlock.” _Score!_

“Cool name, sounds villainy. You aren’t evil are you?” He says with a laugh.

“I get that a lot, but no, I’m not.” The stra- _Deadlock_ sighs. Fuck, did he mess up? He might’ve messed up.

“I like it though! Better than the other names I’ve seen. Which I’ve seen some _terrible_ ones” He sudders. “At least you aren’t named Youse…”

“Juice?”

“Ya, but spelled- get this- Y-O-U-S-E. “ Deadlock’s face twists into a look of confused horror. Hot Rod lets out a laugh. “Ya I had the same reaction.”

He starts working on Deadlock’s order. Let’s see it was a- a- something. Yep. Something complicated that he totally forgot. Oh wait! The receipt! Phew… Okay so a medium iced sugar-free vanilla latte with soy milk…

**…**

Deadlock was lucky he was cute because otherwise he wouldn’t be leaving this shop unscathed.

“Here you go,” He subtly glances at the receipt in his hand, “A medium iced sugar-free vanilla latte with soy for the handsome villain Deadlock.” He winks at Deadlock. Or, tries to. He might’ve just blinked, but it was _supposed_ to be a wink.

Deadlocks blushes as he takes the drink and receipt from Hot Rod- _there's_ an idea! He definitely should of wrote his number on Deadlock’s receipt. Too late _now_ but, next time... _If_ there was a next time. Which there should er- _would_ be. He hopes…

“Thank you…” Deadlock trails off, eyes wandering to Hot Rod’s uniform looking for the his name tag.

“Hot Rod.” He smiles. Deadlock gives a small nod in acknowledgement

“Thank you, Hot Rod.” Deadlock in all his wonderful, cute, handsome, _perfect_ glory gives him a small smile cheeks still slightly blushed, turns around, and exits the shop.

He was gonna get Deadlock’s number if it killed him.

Deadlock walks away from the coffeeshop he'd entered on a whim. He vastly preferred tea to coffee but he was running a bit late to his morning class and last night had been _rough_ . Three break-ins, one attempted murder, and _four_ armed robberies. He needed the extra caffeine.

That cute barista- Hot Rod- had been a pleasant bonus. He's gotten so used to the middle aged women that make up 90% of his yoga classes trying to hit on him- even when he's made it _clear_ they weren't his “type.”- that Hot Rod's flirting had completely blindsided him. Leaving him off balance and stuck thinking about those cute dimples and messy red hair… Those freckles that were so captivating they should be _illegal_ . And that _smile_ …

He sips on his coffee and picks up his pace a bit more unconsciously. Hot Rod was _definitely_ his type but there in came the issue. Deadlock knows better than to flirt with workers, no matter how bright and perfect a smile they had. It was simply bad taste- flirting with someone who is _paid_ to be nice. And he couldn't just ask him off shift because then Hot Rod might think he was _stalking_ him. There’s no way to get Hot Rod’s number that isn't creepy or rude.

He _could_ however, leave a sizable tip. Which he did. It was the least he could do.

His legs led him to the studio while he was lost in his thoughts. He opens the door, hearing the familiar jingle, smiles his fellow instructor Cassi,  and goes to stand in front of his 11am class. Well 11:20 now…

As he places his bag down and rolls out his mat a few of his students came up to greet him. A few not so sneakily looking for a brand on his coffee, probably trying to find out his likes and dislikes. He makes a mental note of some of the concerns and injuries those in his class have. Cassidy’s knee is acting up- make sure she doesn't put her weight on it . Cricket has a sprained ankle- keep her off it. And Melissa pulled a muscle in her arm- not ideal but keep her from moving it. Okay! He was ready to start.

He gets on top of his mat and calls the class together. First demonstrating the pose then walking around the class to adjust the form as needed. He does this for several poses leading up to the last pose. The Corpse pose. After that he stands at the front of the class, clasps his hands over his heart, bows and says-

“Namaste.” 

“Namaste.” The class parrots back. 

“I hope to see you all next week, hopefully I’ll be on time.” He jokes. 

A few members of his class approach him while others immediately pack up and leave. And here it comes…

“Fan of coffee hm? So am I! I’m free this Thursday if you want to grab a cup?” Janet, one of the more persistent in his class when it came to flirting.

“Sorry, busy on Thursday.”

“What about-”

“I’m busy this entire week, uh, family stuff. You know?” Bad excuse but vague enough that it should work. Janet turns around with a quiet ‘humph’ and goes to pack up her things. He’s surprised by a light touch on his arm and turns to see Trinity subtly feel him up. Ugh. He shifts so that he’s no longer in her grasp.

“Can I help you, Trinity?”

“I know you said you were busy with family stuff and uh- I just- if you need someone to be there for you… I’m free.”

He forces the nicest smile he can onto his face. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Janet glare at Trinity. These women were _vultures_ or- or _snakes_. Both really.

“It’s not that kind of family stuff, not quite.” He needs to get out of this vipers den and fast.

He takes his phone out of his duffel bag and acts like he’s checking the time.

“Ah, seems i’m running late again, I should get going… See you all next week ladies!”

He collects his stuff and speedwalks out the front door. His next class was at 3pm giving him enough time to go home and sleep for a good hour or two.

Hot Rod can't believe his eyes Deadlock had tipped… he really tipped him $200. Damn. Meaning he _finally_ has enough to finish repairing the suit! He felt like crying. Happy crying.

After his shift he heads over to the parts shop he’d been frequenting the past few months, _cheap_ parts really but decent quality.

He quickly grabs the parts he knows he'll need and hesitates as a case of spray paint. The suit is a dull gray which _was not_ him at all and thanks to Deadlocks generosity he had a bit left over… It wouldn't _hurt_ to grab some to color the armor…

One purchase later and he’s back at his apartment. The light above flickers slightly when he turns it on and there's a croak from the air conditioner as it turns on for the night. It's not much: one small room with a kitchen in one corner, a couch he found on the side of the road and his armor in another corner of the room, a door at the back leads to his bedroom which is just large enough to fit a bed and a dresser and on the side of the bedroom was a door leading to the bathroom.

He places down his bags on the scratched up wooden table in the kitchen and starts boiling some water and grabs a cup of ramen out of the cupboard. As the water boils he goes into his room to change out of his work uniform and into a pair of pajama pants and a random t-shirt.

Walking back into the main room he pours the now boiling water into the ramen cup grabs a plastic spoon out of a box near the stove then takes the ramen and the bags on the table over to the armor.

He sits down, places the noodles next to him on the floor, opens the bags, takes out the parts and paint, and grabs his tools. He has a long night ahead of him of doing repairs might as well start now. He absentmindedly reaches for the ramen cup and takes a spoonful into his mouth only to spit it back out when the water scalds his tongue. 

“Hot! Hot, hot, hot.” Ugh what's the point of having fire powers if food can still burn him. He sends a dirty glare to his dinner of choice before getting back to repairs.

He ends up forgetting that he even made himself dinner until hours later where he regretfully and sorrowfully eats his ice cold noodles. Before refocusing back on repairs.

He finishes repairs around 1am but instead of going to bed, like he so badly wants to, he drags the armor piece by piece outside. Right to the alleyway between his apartment building and the building next to it, and begins to paint the dull gray armor. Using his shirt as a makeshift mask he colors the armor red and yellow and orange, the colors of fire. He steps back and looks at his work. _Perfect_.

Finally, he was ready to make his grand debut.


	2. The Lab and the Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow an on time update? A miracle.  
> PLEASE see endnote for warnings and pay attention to tags as I update.

Did he say he was ready to make a grand debut? Because he needs to punch past him for thinking that. Ugh, staying up till one then having a double shift at six was the worst thing in the world. He didn’t even see Deadlock again today. Tragic. It was by some miracle that his manager didn’t catch him sneaking shots of espresso throughout the day just to stay awake. Though he’s seen her take more than a few scones into the break room so maybe that was just some unspoken rule he didn’t know of. Months in and he’s still figuring this stuff out...

He fumbles with the key to his apartment, missing the keyhole a few times before managing to unlock the door. He shuts it behind him and fumbles with the door knob till he hears the ‘click’ of it locking. Hot Rod all but collapses on the couch, still in uniform. He’s out the second his head meets the rough fabric.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Wha-?

_ OH. HIS ALARM! _

Hot Rod bolts up, any traces of sleep being erased as panic shoots through him. What time was it?! He paws around for his phone, finds it, thankfully, still in his pocket.

7:45 am.  _ Shit. _ He was screwed. He had 15 minutes to get ready and make it to his 8am shift.  _ Fuck. _

Wait. It was Wednesday. He didn’t have any shifts on Wednesday. Phew. Seeing as he’s  _ not _ in immediate danger of losing his job he tries to fall back asleep but he’s too worked up. With a loud groan he gets up off the couch and stretches. First order of business: shower and food. He glances briefly at his phone’s battery. 21%. Yikes. So: phone, shower, food.

First stop: bedroom, to plug in his phone. Next, bathroom, because he  _ needs _ a shower. He spends twenty minutes in the shower, five brushing his teeth and making faces into the mirror, and ten searching for a clean outfit then he makes his way into the main room again. He should have some eggs he can fry up in the fridge for breakfast…

One healthy breakfast of (slightly burnt) eggs later and he decides he might as well get some chores done. Particularly laundry if his current outfit of hot pink t-shirt with the words “Baby Doll” and black booty shorts with “Spicy” on the butt were anything to go by- he needs to do laundry. (He doesn’t even  _ remember _ getting these clothes)

He grabs the basket of dirty clothes from the bedroom to take them to the communal laundry room. As he’s closing the door he remembers he needs laundry tokens and his key. Hot Rod drops the laundry by the door and rushes back in for them. Before making his way to the laundry room.

Two loads later, he’s back in his apartment and dumping the clean clothes into the dresser. There. Done. Cleanliness achieved.

He… he should probably get ready for tonight. Lab and all. Like, a nap? Test out the armor? Both. Both were good. But definitely the nap first, his exhaustion had returned with a  _ vengeance. _

One three hour nap later and Hot Rod was still tired but not as tired as before. He wastes no time in putting the armor on. It fits perfectly which wasn't a coincidence.  _ They _ had made the suit specifically for him, if it fit anyone else as well he’d be surprised.

The suit itself is painted a combination of red, yellow, and orange- to mimic his own fire powers. There’s a blue visor that covers most of his face, two yellow wing like extensions on his back, pipes on his arms that  _ should _ allow him to have more control over his fire, and 2 boosters on his heels. To finish it off, he sprays painted the letter “M” over the chest plate.

Which was going to be his hero name, not “M” but Meteorite. With the whole flying suit and fire power stuff it just  _ fit.  _ Plus, it was an awesome name.

Once in the suit, he gives the command to online the systems. A soft jingle plays as each system successfully boots up. The hud correctly displaying time, temp, damage level, and of course power level. Currently sitting at a good 99%. Alright! He had spent the last few weeks scoping out the targeted lab during regular walks and as long as nothing wrong happens he should be good to go!

He tries to activate the heel thrusters. Unsuccessfully. Hm. Maybe he should practice a bit first and  _ then  _ go take down that lab...

It’s not like it’s his first time using the suit. But it had been brief and in a  _ much _ more panicked state. Still, after an hour or two of testing out each and every function, re-figuring out how to control everything, and one short test flight, Hot Rod declared himself good to go.

This time he’s able to activate the heel thrusters and take off. It’s nearing midnight and the city below is breathtaking. Streetlights making highways seem like lighted pathways and cars become shiny bugs crawling along.

It takes 5 minutes to fly over to his target lab. A tall-ish building, at least five stories, with a very modern/minimalist aesthetic. A bright sign near the front of the building reads: VP Biogenetic Research and Biochemical Laboratories. He feels like there's a pit in his stomach. This was definitely the place.

For a lab run by  _ Him _ the security’s surprisingly shit. It takes him no time at all to break into the main labs. But that’s not why he’s here. The main labs have nothing of interest, just some DNA samples from different animals and a few lab rats. Nothing out of place for a genetics lab. No. It’s the  _ secret _ labs he’s here for. There should be a elevator somewhere…

There!

Inside the elevator there’s nothing suspicious. Five floors exactly with no hint of anything else. Luckily he knows better. Usually he’d need some sort of key but... He jabs his elbow right below the rest of the buttons and the panel hiding the secret level falls onto the floor with a clang. Brute force works well too.

Meteorite rides the elevator down to the lab. The door opens with a soft ding. The room is a generic lab except for the hallway off to the right leading to the cages and the  _ person _ strapped to a table in the middle of it with an IV in their arm and several sensors tapped to their body.

There are a few scientists around, one at a monitor writing down the data and another preparing something or other in a beaker. At the ding of the elevator they whip around. The one near the monitor reacts quickly in activating the alarm.

Meteorite wastes no time in activating his powers, raising an arm towards the series of monitors and scientist, and shooting out a blast of concentrated fire. There’s a scream but he really can’t bring himself to care about it.

He takes aim at the other ignoring their screams as well. However, whatever chemicals they’d been working with must’ve been explosive and an unexpected boom and wave of heat come over him.

Within seconds the lab’s completely on fire.

Well, job almost done, labs ruined, scientists dead and/or dying, now to save the test subjects. Working quickly he’s able to rip off the straps keeping the person on the table. As carefully as he can he removes the IV needle and sensors, then he gently picks them up. Just as he takes a step towards the elevator, a deep voice calls out behind him.

“Drop them.”

He turns around, still holding on to the former test subject. Through the rising flames he can make out a tall, buff man in a hero costume. Shit. Ok so not the ideal time to explain things seeing as everything’s on  _ fire _ . And getting into a fight here was certainly not ideal.

“No can do, if you haven’t noticed the grounds kinda  _ on fire.” _

“I won’t ask again, drop them now…” The hero trails off, unfamiliar with his current ‘villain.’ As if. He wasn’t  _ evil _ just… morally grey when it came to these assholes.

“Meteorite, and like I said, grounds on fire, no can- ACK” Before he can finish the hero lunges forward and decks Meteorite across the face. It's a miracle his visor doesn't crack but the blow is enough to get him to drop the person he’d been carrying.

Right on the  _ floor,  _ that’s on  _ fire. _

There’s screaming and he acts quickly to grab them again but his attempt is once again stopped by  _ whoever the fuck this asshole is. _

Said asshole apparently decides attacking  _ him _ was better than saving  _ innocents _ . So much for a hero huh. He keeps trying to get close but every time he gets within grabbing distance he’s forced to dodge out of the way of another of the Asshole’s attacks.

He’s totally not starting to panic. Nope. Not like there’s someone burning to death  _ right there! _ He tries again, desperate to save the person. Maybe if he was paying more attention he would’ve been able to dodge the hit.

The punch sends him flying across the room towards the burnt out elevator. There was a fist sized indent on the armor from the hit. And damn, that was gonna bruise.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.  _ Fuck. _

He wasn't going to be able to get close enough to save them at this rate. He was gonna have to leave them.  _ To burn. _ ‘No more innocents’ that’s what he’d promised himself.

Fuck...

Meteorite does the only thing he can. He turns and flies through the top of the elevator shaft and out of the burning building.

When Deadlock, well Drift, got the call he’d been just finishing up stopping a robbery. It took him another ten minutes to get to the burning lab. Just in time to watch something bright fly away. Normally he’d chase down the suspect but whoever was still inside would need immediate help. Good thing his suit was fireproof.

You see, Deadlock didn’t  _ have _ powers. No. Instead he had a high-tech suit and years of sword training which, in his opinion, was much better.

He makes his way into the building. All the upper floors are clear and he starts making his way through the lower ones. They’re significantly more burnt but still no sign of anyone. Thank Primus. He's about to leave when he spots a torn open elevator shaft that looms to go down. Odd for a building that was only supposed to have five floors…

He hops down the shaft. The readouts on his suit inform him of the high temps. This must've been the source of the blaze… Best to leave quickly before his cooling systems go out.

Among the warped metal and burnt lab equipment he can vaguely make out three figures. Dead. Undeniably. But also…

“Striker?! What are you-?”

“Oh Drift, I arrived at the scene not long ago and well,” he motions around the room, “Sadly I was too late to stop the arsonist or save anyone… But this isn't the place to talk. I assume the authorities have been contacted?”

Drift nods.

“Good, I’ll tell you what I know when they get here. Better than repeating myself.” With that Striker flies up the elevator shaft leaving Drift alone in the lab. He give the room a brief once over before following suit.

It takes just a minute or two before fire trucks, police cars, and a few ambulances arrive on the scene. A few more minutes go by and several news crews show up as well.

True to his word Striker begins to explain what he knows.

“I was nearby when I noticed the blaze and went in to check if there was anyone in need of help. In there I confronted our arsonist. He goes by Meteorite.” Striker describes the appearance of this new villain before continuing. Drift takes a moment to mentally hit himself, so the person he saw fleeing  _ was _ the culprit. He should have pursued... “He was in the middle of attacking his third victim when I showed up. He fled soon after but I didn’t chase after him. Saving innocents, after all, is my first and foremost concern.”

The cops take notes and Drift makes sure to record the conversation for later. If this was a new villain he'd have to start collecting as much information as he could. But Striker still wasn't done with his recount.

“I have reason to believe this Meteorite was the same arsonist from several months ago.”

“The Biotech Lab?” Drift vaguely remembers that one. Caught half the city off guard.

“The very one. Meteorite seems to be able to control fire to some degree or at least his suit does. It's not a difficult connection to make. Not to mention he seems to have a grudge against laboratories.”

Drift nods, makes a note of a possible connection, before giving his own statement. Once that's done he takes off. He still has a patrol to finish after all. He can worry about this Meteorite tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow… he also should visit that cafe again. If he was lucky maybe that one barista—Hot Rod—would be there. Not, that he was stalking him, no, but after a night like this? Caffeine was a  _ must. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the single paragraph of "There!" starts the scene that will involve on screen minor character death and heavily implied human experimentation. It ends at the paragraph that starts with "When Deadlock..."


	3. Update on this fic status

So this def isnt the update any of you were expecting and is super remiscent of old ffnet stuff but yeah... Sorry i havent updated in Months. I've had this fic in the back of my mind for a while and i feel bad for not updating in so long but yeah... I had a really bad depressive episode kinda thing after i posted the second chapter that just destroyed my confidence in myself and my willingness to do anything (which ive gotten out of) and now im busy with real life and have ultimately just found myself not liking driftrod as a ship anymore. Maybe i'll pick this up again, i have it all planned out as is, but i cant find it in me to continue a project that i just dont enjoy right now.

Again sorry,  
Frost.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't promise totally regular uploads but I'll try.


End file.
